


Time is Fleeting

by thesleepingsatellite



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, ToT: Chocolate Box
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8363677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesleepingsatellite/pseuds/thesleepingsatellite
Summary: "Me?" Bucky said, touching his hands to his chest. "I'm as innocent as a lamb. Never once got up to mischief on Halloween, not ever."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nan/gifts).



> Some ideas taken from [Halloween: A History](http://www.iskullhalloween.com/hist_article.html). Title taken from The Time Warp lyrics.

**1932**

"Come on, Steve. It'll be fun. I mean, free tickets, how often does that happen?"

Steve tilted his head to look at Bucky. Bucky was fifteen and a year older than Steve. The girls at school had started to notice Bucky - with his dark hair and big, soulful eyes – and that wasn’t lost on Steve. He raised an eyebrow. "About once a year, every Halloween," he said, deadpan. "You know they just hand out free movie tickets to keep punks like you out of trouble, right?"

"Me?" Bucky said, touching his hands to his chest. "I'm as innocent as a lamb. Never once got up to mischief on Halloween, not ever."

Steve snorted. "Yeah, and I'm sure they'd like to keep it that way, which is why you were one of the people to win tickets," Steve said, making air quotes as he spoke. "Don't you have someone else you'd rather take with you? I saw Louise making eyes at you over lunch time."

"I don't wanna go with Louise," Bucky said, slinging an arm around Steve's shoulders. "Why the hell would I want to take her when I have you?"

Later that night in the movie theatre, Steve laughed at the film playing upon the screen. He turned his head to share the moment with Bucky, only to find his friend watching him, his eyes dark and his open slightly. Steve saw the pink shape of Bucky’s tongue press against his teeth before his jaw snapped shut.

A wide, toothy smile appeared on Bucky's face.

"Enjoying the movie, Stevie?" He said. Bucky shifted in his seat, and Steve swore that he shifted closer to him. If Steve were a dame, he would have sworn that Bucky was getting ready to put his arm around his shoulders. And that's just ridiculous, because _it's Bucky_ \- best friends since third grade, scrapping in the back alleys together, pushing the couch-cushions together _Bucky_. 

Then, the witch on the screen let loose a loud cackle, and just like that, the spell was broken. Steve broke eye contact and returned his attention to the film. The next time he glanced at Bucky, his attention was fixed steadfastly toward the flickering light of the screen. No matter how long Steve stared at him, Bucky's gaze remained resolutely forward. 

When they left the theatre, Bucky slung an arm around his shoulder, and hauled him close, saying, "Now I bet you ain't never seen a show like that before, am I right, Stevie?"

"Sure thing, Buck,” Steve said, glancing up at Bucky from where his eyes were trained on the pavement under their feet. Bucky had a grin on his face, his lower lip caught between his teeth, but his eyes didn’t meet Steve's. Instead, he looked to the right, where Louise and her friends were twenty feet away them, huddled together close and giggling as they darted their eyes toward Bucky. 

Perhaps he'd imagined the way Bucky’d looked at him, after all.

* * *

**1936**

Going to see a film with Bucky on Halloween night had become a yearly tradition for Steve. This year’s film was a Western. Steve wasn’t overly fond of Westerns, but he enjoyed the whole experience of going to the movie house so immensely that he wasn’t about to turn Bucky down when Bucky’d shown him the tickets. The smell of the popcorn, the darkness of the theatre, and the flickering light of the film on Bucky’s face made up for the lackluster storyline. 

Once or twice during the film, he thought Bucky had caught him sneaking stolen glances at Bucky’s profile, but Bucky’d said nothing about it. He never did. Bucky seemed content to let Steve look his share, and for that Steve was thankful. It was difficult enough dealing with the desire to touch Bucky’s face, to see if his lips were as soft as they looked, without having Bucky call him on it. 

Still, he did wonder about that time he’d caught Bucky looking at him the same way.

“Lemme walk you home,” Bucky said, as they ambled out of the theatre. 

Steve scuffed his shoes. “You don’t have to do that, Buck.”

“Nah, I want to,” Bucky said with a grin. “Gotta make sure my best guy gets home safe.”

A wide genuine smile appeared on Steve’s face. “Fine,” he said, trying hard to grouse. “If it’ll make you feel better.”

“Yeah it will,” Bucky said, slinging an arm around Steve’s shoulders. Steve flushed, telling himself that Bucky didn’t mean nothing by it. It was just Bucky being Bucky, just like Bucky calling him his best guy was just Bucky teasing him. Even so, Steve had to fight the urge to crowd in closer to Bucky as they walked.

They were a block away from Steve’s apartment when the sound of breaking glass sliced through the air.

Steve’s head whipped to the left, where two laughing teenagers their age were standing outside of Thompson’s Grocery. There was a large, jagged hole in the otherwise pristine glass window, and one of the boys was hefting a brick behind his shoulder to create another.

“Steve,” Bucky said, his voice low with warning. He grabbed Steve’s arm, trying to tug Steve away.

“Buck, we have to do something-”

“We don’t gotta do nothing, that’s what the police are-” Steve tugged his way out of Buck’s grip, and advanced toward the twosome. “Goddammit,” he heard Bucky swear behind him.

“Hey,” Steve yelled out to the boys just as the brick crashed through the window with the sound of splintering glass. “It’s not nice to vandalize other people’s property.”

“Oh yeah?” said the largest boy, obviously the leader of the two. “What are you going to do about it, huh tough guy?”

“Yeah, tough guy!” said a smaller, reedier kid.

“I’m gonna ask real polite for you to leave, now-” 

The larger boy snorted, and leapt, throwing a punch at Steve’s jaw that had him reeling backward. The shock of the impact caused his eyes to fly shut, and when he opened them again, Bucky was in front of him, having grabbed the older boy’s shirt with one hand to stop him from running while he aimed a punch to the kid’s temple with his other hand.

“Don’t you ever-” Bucky’s fist landed on the kid’s ear. “Touch-” Bucky punched his jaw, causing his head to jerk back with the force of the impact. “-him again.” Bucky finished, punctuating his statement with a gut punch to the boy’s stomach.

“Hey, you kids!” Came a deep, baritone voice from within the store. Steve peered into the darkness of the closed grocery to see Mr. Thompson emerge from the aisles, brandishing a broom in one hand.

“Come on,” the smaller kid said, tugging at the larger boy’s elbow in an attempt to heave him off the ground from where he’d fallen at Bucky’s feet, clutching his middle. “Let’s get out of here before the cops show up.”

Bucky turned to Steve, eyes wide. He grabbed Steve’s arm and hauled him toward Steve’s building, “Let’s go-” he said to Steve, propelling him along the sidewalk. 

“But we weren’t the ones who-” Steve gasped as they ran.

“Yeah, but Mr. Thompson doesn’t know that,” Bucky said, looking back over his shoulder as they ran. After a little while, he said, “I think we lost them. You can slow down a little now.”

“Oh good,” Steve gasped. The running had made him wheeze a little, and he was glad for the respite.

Once in Steve’s apartment, Bucky slammed the door closed, and looked at Steve. “Sit.” He said, his voice brooking no room for argument. Steve blinked at him, and sat at the kitchen table and watched as Bucky got a rag and ran it under the kitchen faucet.

Bucky shook his head as he approached Steve, wet rag in hand. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Steve,” he said as he pulled a chair up beside Steve and sat down. “Why you gotta go and do a thing like that?”

Steve clenched his jaw. “They shouldn’ta been doing that,” he said. “Mr. Thompson works hard at his store, and it’s going to cost him an arm and a leg to replace that glass.”

Bucky frowned. “It ain’t your problem,” he said, dabbing at Steve’s split lip with the wet rag. Despite his anger, Steve felt himself relaxing, his lip softening where Bucky pressed the rag to his skin.

“I know that,” Steve said, looking at Bucky. Bucky’s eyes were half lidded, his attention on Steve’s mouth as he tended to cut there. The rag was wet and cool against his skin, and he was struck by a desperate wish for the warm, lush touch of Bucky’s lips instead. 

“There, all done.” Bucky said, dabbing at Steve’s lip one last time before putting the rag on the table. He looked up at Steve. His gaze flitted from Steve’s lips, up to his eyes, and back down to Steve’s mouth again before he pressed his own lips together and turned way.

“I better go,” Bucky said, swiping his hand over his face as he got up off the chair. He turned his back to Steve and shrugged his jacket on.

“Oh,” Steve said. He flushed at how breathy his voice sounded. For a hot second there, he had actually thought Bucky was going to kiss him, that the feelings he’d harboured for Bucky weren’t one-sided after all. As he watched Bucky smile and wave on his way out the door, Steve reminded himself that they were friends, best friends. Nothing more was possible, nor would it ever be.

* * *

**1940**

It was their first Halloween since they’d moved into the apartment in Red Hook together and Bucky had managed to talk his way into two tickets to a fancy dress event at one of the local dance halls. When he’d presented them to Steve with a wide grin on his face, Steve couldn’t bring himself to say no. He barely tolerated dancing, and felt like a third wheel when Bucky would drag him along on dates – even if Bucky’s girl had managed to bring a friend to keep Steve company – but this time, there were just two tickets. Bucky was just bringing him.

It was Bucky who had come up with the idea to dress as pirates. He’d found an old vest of his father’s that suited the part and a hat in a rummage shop, and ran with the idea, somehow acquiring enough costume items for both of them. He’d even managed to find some pieces in Steve’s size. Steve had protested over the cost when they were struggling to put food on the table, but Bucky had waved him off saying, “It ain’t nothing, Stevie. These rummage stores will see this stuff a dime a dozen.” And well, what could Steve say about that?

It was Halloween night. Steve was in the kitchen, adjusting the vest that Bucky’d found for him. It was still loose around his chest, but the colour was nice – a rich, burnished red. “Brings out the gold in your hair,” Bucky had said, when he’d handed Steve the vest a few days prior. 

Steve heard a noise behind him, and turned, his breath catching when Bucky emerged from the bedroom in full pirate regalia. Bucky had a patch over one eye, a fantastic black hat on his head and a jacket belted at the waist by a wide sash, emphasizing his trim, muscular frame. Steve’s eyes widened, and he cleared his throat, darting his eyes back to the table where a newspaper was spread in front of him. Try as he might, his eyes were inexorably drawn back to Bucky, who was walking toward him with a scarf in his hands.

“Here,” Bucky said. “A finishing touch for your costume. Come here for a sec.”

Steve watched as Bucky moved in front of him, the red scarf in his hands. Bucky looked at the scarf, his lips quirked in a half smile. Then, he turned his attention to Steve’s head, wrapping the scarf over his hair. He reached his hands behind Steve’s head, biting his lip in concentration as he tied it in a knot. It was awkward, and Steve wondered why Bucky couldn’t have just moved behind Steve to fix his scarf, but with Bucky standing so close to him, he was not about to complain. He was so close that Steve didn’t know where to look. His gaze flitted from Bucky’s eyes, to where his Adam’s apple was bobbing in this throat, to Bucky’s lips, catching the moment when Bucky’s tongue snuck out to wet them. 

“There,” Bucky said, resting his hands on Steve’s shoulders when the knot was done. “You look like a helluva first mate. Any captain would be glad to have you.”

Steve dropped his eyes from Bucky’s down to his mouth. He watched as Bucky sucked his lower lip into his mouth, and then suddenly felt brave enough to ask, “Would you?”

Bucky’s eyebrows drew together and his mouth dropped open, “What do you mean, you have me.”

“No, I mean-” 

Instead of completing the sentence, Steve stood on the tips of his toes and leaned up to press a kiss to Bucky’s mouth. Steve captured Bucky’s lush lower lip between his own, and a heady thrill shot through his body at the sensation. Even so, Steve braced himself for the inevitable moment when the hands on his shoulders would push him away. Instead Bucky inhaled sharply through his nose and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around Steve’s body as he returned the kiss with fervour.

After several, long, glorious, and – if Steve was honest with himself – arousing minutes kissing Bucky, they broke the kiss, moving apart just far enough to look at each other’s faces. They grinned at each other like a couple of besotted fools in love, and that, Steve knew, was what they were.

“Of course, you dummy,” Bucky said, his voice full of mirth and joy. “You have me until the end of the line, remember?”

* * *

**2012**

His first Halloween after Steve awoke in the twenty-first century was surreal. Steve had expected technology to progress. That was a given. He’d expected music and film to have changed vastly since the 1930s. He’d expected that social mores and values would change, and was gratified to see that young people today could love each other the way he and Bucky did, without fear of reprisal or prison. 

What he hadn’t expected was the large-scale commercialization of holidays, such as Christmas (he was lucky if he got an orange in his stocking when he was a child), Valentine’s Day (the gaudy pink and red hearts that adorned the displays were a tad stomach churning) and Independence Day (well, that one was okay). Halloween was something else altogether. It shocked him that it had become an occasion almost exclusively for children, who dressed up in costume and went door-to-door begging for treats instead of engaging in destructive tricks.

The modern world perplexed Steve sometimes, it really did. He guesses he shouldn’t have underestimated children’s appetite for candy, nor adults’ need to control them.

He did have to admit the kids were pretty cute.

Steve’s apartment wasn’t on ground level, and so no trick-or-treaters would land on his doorstop. So he put on his baseball cap and went for a walk around his neighborhood on the evening of Halloween, grinning from ear to ear as small children dressed as monsters, mythical creatures, princesses, and pirates ran scoured the neighbourhood for candy. When two kids dressed as pirates darted around him, pointing cutlasses at each other and saying “Arrrr” as they raced up the path to a neighbor’s front door, he felt a pang of sadness. He looked away and continued his walk.

“Captain ‘Merica!” 

A small voice sounded from in front of him, and he looked down to see a boy, no older than seven years old, dressed in the red, white and blue of his old uniform from the 1940s. He clutched a plastic shield in his right hand and a bag of treats in his left. Reaching for his father with his left hand, he said “Dad, it’s Captain ‘Merica!”

Steve smiled and ducked his head, pulling his hat further down over his head. 

“You sure are, buddy!” The father said to his son, laughing as another child ran to join them. The boy was dressed in a blue coat, grey trousers and he had a plastic gun tucked in a holster at his side. Steve’s breath caught in his throat.

“No, Dad, really, it’s him,” the boy said, dragging his father along the sidewalk, to where Steve stood, hands in his pockets.

“What do you mean it’s-” The man’s mouth dropped when Steve caught his eye. Steve attempted a self-depreciating grin.

“Hi,” Steve said, extending his hand. “Steve Rogers.”

“See, I told you!” The boy said, jumping up and down. “Captain ‘Merica, see I have a shield just like yours!”

Steve smiled down at the boy. “I see that! It looks great!”

“Where’s yours?”

“I had to leave it at home tonight. No monsters to fight except the ones in costumes, and they seem pretty harmless.”

“Oh!” The boy said, dragging the child in the blue jacket forward from where he had been hiding behind the man’s knees. “My brother is Bucky!”

The child in the blue jacket remained resolutely mute, staring up at Steve with large, disbelieving eyes. 

Steve attempted a smile at the small child, but he was sure it came out strained. For him, it had been less than a year since Bucky died, and the pain of it was still fresh in his mind. It amazed him that since the time he went under the ice he and Bucky had become fodder for Halloween costumes for small children. 

“That’s great,” he said, looking at the child. He pointed to the wing patch sewn onto the shoulder of the child’s jacket. “Very authentic.” 

The child smiled and said politely, “Thank you.”

“Are you out trick-or-treating, too?” The first child asked.

“Oh- No,” Steve said, swiping his hand over the back of his neck. “I just wanted to see what it was all about.”

“I guess they didn’t do trick-or-treating back in your day,” the father said, apparently having regained his ability to speak.

Steve shook his head. “The tricking part, yeah. There were always vandals who wreaked havoc on the neighbourhood, but trick-or-treating like exists today, no.”

“Well, the kids like it,” the man said with a nervous grin.

“I can see that,” Steve said, watching in amusement as the boy dressed as Bucky tugged on his father’s hand. 

“Come onnnnnn,” the boy whined, pulling his father in the direction of the next house. 

“Okay, okay,” the father laughed, turning to wave to Steve. “Nice to meet you!”

“Bye Captain ‘Merica!” The first boy said. He turned to run after his family, but stopped short and returned his attention to Steve. He raised a hand to his forehead in a salute, the bag of candy swinging from his wrist. Steve snapped to attention and returned the gesture.

“As you were,” he said, laughing as the boy ran off into the night.

* * *

**2018**

Since waking from cryosleep a few months ago, Bucky has come to learn a great deal about his host country and the people that live there. It is green beyond all imagining, which belies the extreme degree of technological advancement the country enjoys. The people are deeply religious isolationists, and a strong sense of community is fostered among them by their king, T’Challa. Since the scientists of Wakanda healed his mind, he has been T’Challa’s guest. As is Steve, and they are both free to live there as long as they desire.

But. The country of Wakanda does not celebrate Halloween. Which is today. And Steve is not here to celebrate it with him, having gone on a mission three days ago.

Bucky feels a pang of sadness. When he regained his memories, those from Halloween were among the ones he treasured the most. Seated in the complex’s yoga studio in Lotus pose, his hands resting on his knees, he catalogues the memories:

  * Dressing up in old rags when they were nine years old to go to the Ragamuffin parade
  * Sneaking penny candy from the stash his mother kept and sharing it with Steve after school
  * Taking Steve to see a show when they gave out free tickets to keep kids like him out of trouble. Wondering why, when he looked at the light flickering on Steve’s face, he felt like kissing him, the same as he did the girls that he went with.
  * Wanting to kiss the blood off of Steve’s lip the one time some asshole almost punched Steve’s lights out. 
  * Actually kissing Steve the night they both dressed up as pirates. They never did make it to the fancy dress party.
  * Telling ghost stories around the campfire with the Howlies, and making shadow puppets with Steve in their shared tent.



The Halloweens that he’s spent with Steve were always joyful ones. He has trouble finding his calm this evening. The knowledge that this Halloween will pass unmarked perturbs him and fills him with a sense of loss that he cannot explain.

Unable to calm his mind, Bucky opens his eyes and pushes himself up to stand before the floor-to-ceiling window from which the splendor of the Wakandan jungle can be enjoyed. Night has fallen, and the jungle is dark. He knows that in the verdant trees all manner of predators prowl the forest. He wishes both them and their prey well as he turns his back to the window, heading for the suite he shares with Steve.

The suite is quiet and dark when he returns. He enters the bathroom, sheds his clothing and slips into the shower. The patter of the water on the top of his skull helps him find the calm that eluded him in the studio. When he is finished, he towels himself off, feeling light and centered, before moving to the bedroom to dress himself in soft, comfortable clothing.

He walks into the living room and stops short. Steve is there. This isn’t strange, because they live together. But. Steve is supposed to be out of the country. 

“Buck,” Steve says, his face lighting up. Bucky smiles back, unable to help himself when Steve looks at him like that.

“Hey,” Bucky says in response, crossing the room to stand before Steve. “Didn’t expect to see you until later this week.” He leans in and presses a kiss to Steve’s lips. Steve crowds in toward him to return the kiss and frames Bucky’s face with his hands as if Bucky is something precious. Then, Steve breaks away and tips his head forward to brush his forehead against Bucky’s. He grasps Bucky’s hand in his own, and tugs him forward, toward the sliding door that separates their suite from the lush, green garden outside.

“Come on,” Steve says. “I have a surprise.”

“A surprise,” Bucky grouses. “No good can come from this.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Steve says, tugging Bucky along the garden path. Around them, the air is full of the sounds of night creatures, and is scented by redolent tropical blossoms. The night sky is dark and full of stars, and Steve’s hand is warm against his own new, biomechanical hand. It is already a much better evening than he expected.

Steve glances at Bucky. “Close your eyes.”

“What.”

“Just do it. I got you, Bucky.”

Bucky huffs, but secretly he’s excited about whatever Steve has planned, so he closes his eyes. Steve’s hand grips his firmly and Bucky allows Steve to lead him into the dark. Bucky’s sense of spatial awareness is excellent, so he can envision the path they are following, and knows they reached a set of benches in a pergola before Steve prompts him to take a seat. Steve sits beside him and takes both of Bucky’s hands in his own. 

“Okay,” Steve says, his voice breathless. “Open your eyes.”

The first thing that Bucky registers is that there are _pumpkins_. Five of them, large ones, carved like jack-o-lanterns and set a-glow with the candles from within. Then he realizes that carved into the pumpkins are not images, but _words_ \- one word for each pumpkin, with the last one reserved for a punctuation mark, a question.

Bucky’s heart skips a beat. 

He did not think this would be for him. It is a question he thought he’d never be able to ask Steve, not when they were living together in that small apartment in Brooklyn. Not when it seemed as though the whole world had it out for people like them. 

“Bucky,” Steve says, and Bucky turns to him to see his eyes wide and full of hope. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, you goddamn idiot.” Bucky’s voice breaks with emotion. “Of course I’ll fucking marry you.” He kisses Steve then, bringing a hand to Steve’s face to hold him close. A thrill of delight shoots through him when Steve laughs joyfully against his lips before kissing him back.

 _Married_. They’re getting fucking married. Who would ever have thought?

“Wait,” Bucky says, breaking the kiss. “Where did you get the pumpkins?”

Steve grins, and presses another kiss to Bucky’s lips. “I have my ways.”

“So,” Bucky moves to straddle Steve’s hips, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck. “When you say you were on a mission-” 

Steve’s hands go to Bucky’s hips, pulling Bucky’s weight firmly against him. “I was actually out with Natasha finding the perfect pumpkins, yeah.” He tucks his hands into the back of Bucky’s sweatpants.

Bucky leans forward, nuzzling his mouth against Steve’s jaw. “And here I was thinking you’d forgotten.” 

“I’d never,” Steve says, and Bucky gasps when Steve arches upward against him. “It’s our day.”

“Damn right it is,” Bucky says, claiming Steve’s mouth in a kiss once more. “How do you feel about a Halloween wedding?”

Steve laughs. “With friends like ours? Halloween is pretty much every day.”


End file.
